No Rest For the Wicked
by Typo Goblin
Summary: Mustang and Hawkeye reflect on their life together the night before it will change drastically. **Spoiler Warning: If you have not read up to at least chapter 50 in the manga, please do not read this story** I do not own FullMetal Alchemist.


Colonel Roy Mustang sat on the couch, watching the fire that blazed in the hearth. He'd just stoked it, added another log. With his help, the tiny flames had roared back to life. And yet, the flickering glow that it gave off into the darkening room gave no comfort tonight. Tomorrow would be the start of a new life, or the end of the current one. Only time would tell. Everything would change. This would be the last night of peace, so he fully planned on enjoying it.

Just as soon as someone else arrived. Most of the men who followed him would be out tonight, also enjoying their last night of freedom. They would have to do it carefully. All of them were walking on eggshells as it was. Yet, he'd ordered them to make the most of it and he knew they would. They would all return in the morning, ready to go. It amazed him sometimes, his luck. How he'd found such a loyal and steadfast group of people, he would never know. He didn't deserve them.

He turned to look over his shoulder as the most trusted of his subordinates came through the door to join him. She would never know how perfect she was. Of course, he could never tell her. She wouldn't tolerate such things.

Setting the paper bag of items on the small table in front of the couch, she sat down beside him. Her soft brown eyes turned to fall on him slowly. They were so...sad. He knew he couldn't do anything about it. She was her own woman and there was no talking her out of something once she'd set her mind on it. She was going to follow him to the end, and end that he hoped would not be as soon as he thought. He hated causing her such distress.

Reaching out, he brushed her bangs from her face, tucking them behind her ear. He couldn't count how many people he'd killed with those fingers. How many lives had ended at the literal snap of his fingers? And yet, she never flinched away from him. There were even the rare moments that she needed comfort enough to seek out his touch.

Tonight would be one of those nights. Without bothering to unpack, just yet, the contents of the bag, she reached up to push his wrist back slightly, then slid beneath his arm, effectively slipping it over her shoulders. She shifted to sit close to him, resting her head against his chest, her own arm draped loosely around him.

No words were spoken between them for a long time. Sheltering her under his arm, he laid his head against hers. They had known each other for a long time. There were certain understandings that just went unspoken between them. That was the beauty of their relationship. Hawkeye was quiet by nature. She only spoke when she had something to say. Mustang, himself, had a hard time speaking from his heart. How he'd managed to set up this rebellion, he still wondered.

"Wine?" She asked quietly. It was dark out now, the sun fully set. No stars, not even the moon shone in the dark sky. Everything had been blotted out. A fitting atmosphere. Sitting up from his embrace, she reached into the bag and extracted a small bottle of wine. Two boxes of food came out as well. Neither was hungry, but she'd figured that if they became so later, it was better to be prepared.

She started to stand, intending to get the glasses. With a gentle hand on her shoulder, he urged her to sit back against the couch again. "I'll get them." He assured her, rising and disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Flipping open one of the boxes, she picked at the noddles inside for a few moments. Her stomach churned at the thought of eating it. On any other day, she would have gladly eaten. The food was from one of her favorite places. She closed it again quickly and pushed it to the edge of the table. It was getting cold enough now that the smell didn't waft around the room.

Mustang came back with two glasses between the fingers of one hand, a cork screw in the other. Taking the delicate glass for him, she set waited for him to open the wine. He made quick work of it, pouring the deep red liquid into the glasses she held. The deep amber color swirled around the glass as it filled, heavier then water, velvet liquid.

Taking his glass from her, he sat back again. His arm around her pulled her smaller form against his. She didn't resist him. In public, they were always professional. Never too close, eyes never lingering for too long. People guessed, but no one would ever see the definite proof. In private, they could relax. One of the few joys in their life. To understand someone so intimately. Just they way they were right now. Never speaking a word, yet exchanging volumes. She was everything he needed in his life. She gave him purpose, a reason to do what he was doing. He wanted to make it better for her. Yet, she was also the one that gave him the strength to do it, the drive to get it done. She was his reason and his ability.

"Hawkeye. I know what you're going to say, but I feel that I should offer you a way out one more time."

"I know, sir. I appreciate it but we both know where my place is." She said softly, without even stirring. She didn't even need a moment to think about it.

"I knew you'd say that. Just checking." He muttered, almost as if he was disappointed in her decision. It couldn't be further from the truth. Sure, he worried for her safety, but she was a capable soldier.

"Besides, we both know that if I'm not there, you might as well not be either." She added after a moment, taking a long drink of the wine. She could feel the warmth travel all the way down. Not like a hard alcohol that burned through the body. More, a gentle glow.

She'd always battled that feeling. That he needed her, not wanted her with him. That she was a tool that was lugged around. Did he only offer her a way out because he knew she would never take it? Was he using her feelings for him to his own agenda?

Of course she agreed that their relationship was closer than most. They did know each other fairly well. Able to carry on a conversation without a single word. To understand each other by just a look. But, did that change the fact that she was only tolerated? Understanding and knowing were very different from love.

Very lazily, he took her glass and set it aside with his own. His hand rested on her thigh, his own dark eyes willing her to look up at him. "You'll never know how thankful I am for you following me. You have no reason too. I would have understood if you'd simply walked out of my life. I don't think you quite understand, Hawkeye." He took her hand, lifted her fingers to his lips. They brushed lightly against her knuckles. These hands were just as deadly as his own, he'd come to learn. They had taken just as many lives, always to save his own worthless one.

"I'm not strong because you're here physically. Not because you give me the things I need to show physical strength. I'm doing this because _you_ are here, Hawkeye. I've asked you to do so many horrible things. I've taken you from safety into a literal war zone. I've asked you to kill in my name, to over throw a government and chance being killed or exiled. By all rights, I should be taken out and shot. A real man should not have to ask the woman he loves to risk her life and take the lives of others for him. And yet, you do so for me. Why do you?"

Her eyes drifted down, away from his inquiring gaze. She didn't know if she could answer that with words. It simply was. The sky was blue, grass was green. Her following him was simply another irrefutable truth. She'd heard people speak of soul mates. Finding a single person in your existence that made you complete. She had nothing to base it off of, but she wondered if this was not their relationship. There was no Mustang without Hawkeye and with him, she would have no purpose. Was that the definition of a soul mate? No one without the other? Was it possible to have a soul mate who didn't love you? Who was just with you because they felt they had to be? An obligation of sorts.

If things had turned out different, if they had parted ways, how different would their lives be? Would they be miserable but safe? Here they were, on the brink of insanity, yet in the shelter of the safe house, with the two of them alone, all was right amidst the chaos of a world that none could begin to understand or bring order to. Even if he only kept her around because he needed her to carry out his plans, she was comforted just by his presence.

"Because, there is no other way." She finally said. "I may have not had much say in this path, but even if I had, I would find myself in the same place."

"But you still think that I only keep you around because I need you." It was a statement, not a question.

She laughed slightly, the sound humorless and almost cold. "Colonel, weither you need me or want me will not change my being here. I am still here and that's all that matters to me. It may be a win by default, but I'll still take it."

"And here I thought you were smart."

Her eyes moved back up at him, her surprise clear. It made sense to her.

"I would hope you know me better than that. I hope you do not think I would be so shallow as to simply use a woman. It would be one thing if I used you for my military career, that would be bad enough. But to use you in a romantic capacity. To take my physical pleasure from you if I did not _want_ you. I feel bad enough for dragging you into all of this. I would really have to order you to take me out back and shoot me if I were to add rape to the list."

She frowned slightly. Clearly his choice of words could have been thought over a little more. Yet, at the time, it seemed to him to be the most appropriate. "Perhaps I never 'forced' you into anything, but if I didn't care for you, wouldn't it essentially be the same thing? I certainly wouldn't make me any less of an ass. It's one thing to ask you to overthrow a powerful government with a handful of men, especially knowing that some aren't even mere men. But to turn around and ask you to come here, spend the night with me."

"Hawkeye, please tell me you do not think I would use your body. You aren't just a stress reliever for me. My physical release is not all I seek when I ask for your company." He found he had to stop there. He didn't know what else to say. All of the sudden their perfect relationship was shattering around him. Had he been so blind?

He hadn't meant for the night to go like this. His chest was aching. Had she really thought this for so long? For all this time? It made his stomach churn at the thought. Had she gone along with _everything_ because she'd thought it's what he wanted? Was her sense of duty really that unwavering? That posed a question that scared him even more. Was she only with him because she thought she had to be? Did she think that his request to join him tonight was an order?

She surprised him by looking away. For a moment, his heart stopped. If he had ever believed in a higher power, he prayed now that those had not been her thoughts. Had he been so stupid as to not show her his intentions? He'd never found the words, but had he been so hard as to not show her? There would be no repairing the damage if that was so. No way he would be able to prove to her that he wanted her, not just needed her.

Closing his eyes, he shot a hand through his jet black hair and leaned back hard into the back of the couch. All of this time he'd been fighting so hard to bring her into a better world that he'd neglected to keep her a part of it. He'd spent plenty of sleepless nights seeing the faces of people he'd killed. Yet one thought of her had driven them away. Through all of the hardship she'd been his rock. When she needed him, he'd neglected her.

He felt soft fingers brush his face, making him open his eyes. "I may have worried that I wasn't what you wanted, but I'm not stupid. Do you really know me so little?" She asked, letting her hand fall to her lap. "Do you think I would give myself to you if I thought there was a chance you were using me?"

He suddenly looked guilty. "Riza," It was so rare that he used her first name, it scared her. Had she been wrong about him? "When Hughes died," He began, straining to find the words he wanted.

She could think of no other way to stop him than to kiss him. Her hand on his cheek raised his face to her, allowing her to brush her lips against his. "Neither of us were really thinking right that night. It was hard, especially for you. I wanted to comfort you. Please don't worry about that. If it hadn't been okay with me, I never would have gone to see you." She assured him.

"It shouldn't have been like that, Hawkeye." He argued. "That's where all this started, isn't it? I've been so stupid." He groaned, resting his head back against the couch and looking up at the ceiling. "I took advantage of you and never once told you otherwise, or acted as if that wasn't the case." He shook his head and sat up. "All of those times you saved my life and I wasn't even worth it."

She frowned slightly, her brown eyes troubled. "Please don't say that. Look. There's one way we can put all of this behind us."

He raised a brow as he watched her.

She shifted to lay herself across his lap, forcing him to put her arms around her and hold her secure. Her soft brown eyes looked into his darker ones, her gaze intense. "Are you using me, Roy Mustang?"

She was right, that was an easy way to get rid of the misunderstanding. "No. I love you. I would never use you. I want you in my life more than anything. I would die without you. And not just because I 'need' you." He assured her.

It felt odd to say the words. They were so taboo. Their relationship was not allowed. But then, things had changed in the last couple of weeks. There were so few truths left in their lives, so much they couldn't trust. All they had left was each other and the people that supported them along the way. He didn't care if it meant disobeying rules, especially if they had been created by monsters. He would grab a hold with both hands and never let go.

"All of that pain and suffering, on both of our parts for nothing. Wasn't that easy?"

"No." He admitted with a laugh. "It was hard as hell. But I bet it will get easier if I keep saying it. By the time we're eighty you won't be able to shut me up."

Thoughts of what they had to do in the morning came rushing back. If they made it to next Tuesday she would be content, let alone all the way to eighty. Rather than ruin the small amount of happiness they could find during this darkness before the dawn, she smiled. "I can't get you to shut up now, the only difference will be the words you say."

With a smile, his arms tightened around her to draw her in for a kiss. One hand ran through her soft hair. It was such a treat when she let it down, and that was usually only with him. In his mind, he knew the right thing to do would be push her away. Force her to go somewhere safe, somewhere far from where the fighting would be in a just a few hours time.

He remembered the funeral of his best friend. The empty look on Gracia's face, like she had died with him. He never wanted Hawkeye to look like that for him. He wasn't worth it, but he knew she would do it anyway. The only way to prevent that, was to stay alive.

It may not make him any better than those he was going against, but he couldn't manage to let her go. Instead, he just held her tighter. He did nothing to deserve her, quite the opposite, yet she still stood by his side. More loyal and loving than he could ever have imagined in a partner, business, personal or otherwise.

"Hawkeye, there really is something I need to say. Maybe it's just me being selfish and wanting to get it off my chest, I don't know." She could feel the troubled rise and fall of his chest as he took a deep, steadying breath. "That night...Hughes' funeral. I know you don't think so, but it was wrong. I wish I could take it back."

She started to speak, but he surprised her by clamping a hand over her mouth. With a grin, he shook his head, then shook his finger at her. "Lemme finish, alright?" He asked. His mouth smiled, but his eyes were drowning in pain.

"All I was thinking of was stopping the pain. I wasn't thinking about you, or your pain. I took from you when I shouldn't have. That was the last thing I should have done. If anything, I should have talked with you. There are better ways to grieve. I should have celebrated his life. We should have just sat and talked. Instead...I attacked you."

"I don't think you attacked me, exactly." She cut in before he could silence her again. "I could have said no if I wanted to. I was hurting too. Especially seeing you in such pain. You were so haunted, I doubted you would have been able to think straight anyway. You didn't hurt me." She told him, knowing he needed to hear it.

She could tell by the quick exhale that he was relieved to hear that. "I don't really remember what happened that night. I was worried I had hurt you. If I didn't remember what happened, I was clearly not thinking properly. Hawkeye, you're the last person I would want to hurt."

"You haven't. Don't you think I would stop you if you had hurt me? If it worries you so much, that you did wrong, why don't we do tonight what we should have that night. We can't change the past, but we can atone for it. Afterall, aren't we mostly doing this for him?" She asked gently, closing her eyes a moment.

"If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened. His death put something into motion that was bigger than all of us. We don't want to let that go to waste, that's why we're risking our lives. So that good people like him don't have to give their lives and leave their families in a broken world."

He shook his head and laughed slightly. "You have an answer for everything, don't you? You always know just how to make me better, when it's me who should be comforting you."

"Just shut up with that and tell me a story."

"Is that an order?" He asked curiously.

"Yes, sir. I believe it is."

He got more comfortable, shifting her slight weight against him to ensure her comfort as well. Closing her eyes,she laid her head against his chest. She could hear the beat of his heart as he related his first meeting with Hughes. She'd heard it before, but it had been when the two of them had shown up drunk to his office late one night. She hoped it would be more coherent this time.

There would be little sleep to be had tonight anyway. After all, there was no rest for the wicked. There was still so much to be done. Plans to go over, plans to formulate should those go awry. But most of all, he wanted to tell and show the woman in his arms that she was the most important thing in his life. He couldn't stop her from coming with him, he knew that and he was grateful. He would do his best to prepare and protect her, but in the end, no one knew what would happen.

If something should happen to one or both of them the next day, then they would have this night to look back on. The night when they realized that time was running short. There was no sense in keeping up the charades any longer. If they did or not, they would live tonight as if they were going to die tomorrow.

No, there was no rest for the wicked, but perhaps there was solace for the honest. She would be able to drive away the dense feeling of foreboding hanging in the air, just with her touch. He would do the best to shelter her, lavish her with the comfort she had so freely given him for so many years. No more misunderstandings between them, no more unspoken worries or guilts. There was no point in life if one went about it blind to the pain they caused. It would be hypocritical to shout out their cause, and not feel it in their souls. Hughes had lived and loved to his fullest capacity every day of his life.

If they couldn't live life to the fullest and teach others to do the same, even by example, what were they even fighting for?


End file.
